Smoky Sunsets and 8Bit Nights
by Product Of A Sick Society
Summary: There had to be a catch. The catch was revealed when a familiar – and decidedly unwelcome – computerized voice came from the speakers, a black L appearing in the middle of the laptop's screen... This is Matt's story.
1. Game Start

Author's Note: First of all, I would like to state: I do not own Deathnote or any of the Characters in said anime/manga. Though I do own this fanfic storyline and all OC characters and I'll admit that the first few paragraphs were inspired by a book I read a few years ago.

This originally started as a writing exercise to test out different writing perspectives. I liked this first person version the best – kinda feels like you're having a conversation almost. Never really got into fanfics at first, but then I happened to notice: Matt is my favorite character next to L. Why is he always a secondary character or co-main character? I did not like this development and have decided to create a story solely based around him (Which is proving to be quite a challenge because, honestly, there is not a lot to go off of from the manga and I refuse to use the usual 'Kira VS L' storyline in Deathnote since it limits my creativity). One thing I will state before reading, you'll have to keep an open mind in this one. I read all the other fics and he's always portrayed as very childish and quite obviously not on a level anywhere close to Mello and Near. This is my take on a more individual, more mature and more independent Matt (with some fun plot bunnies along the way), because really, how the hell do you get to be third greatest out of how many hundreds if you're just some guy with some tech skills and a video game fetish?

I would very much appreciate some feedback as this is the first time I have ever chosen to publicly display any of my writing. Anyway, continue on. I hope this big block of text at the beginning didn't scare everyone away. xP

**Game – Start**

Just when you think you have the whole situation scoped out, Fate has a way of stampeding right over you without even stopping to say 'I'm Sorry.' Happens all the time if your name is Matt. You could write a book on it.

I'm Matt. Sitting pretty in my mid teens just under five-and-a-half feet, stylish reddish-brown hair, hundred fifteen pounds plus – all muscle, I might add. My personality has been variously labeled as sour, sulky, cynical or sarky. Anything with a sibilant. Sneaky and snaky my enemies claim, but hell, I'm a sweetheart, really. Just a big ol' cuddly bear with a nice smile and deep soulful eyes. Honestly.

Don't believe everything you hear. I'm just a realist who suffers from a recurring tumor of romantic pragmatism. Once upon a time I was a lot more romantic, but then… well, you'll get it by the end of the this little anecdote.

Bone-lazy, that's what Mello would call me. But hell, who's going to listen to someone without the moral fiber to sit still for longer than five minutes? I'm not lazy: I'd just rather not work if I don't need the money. When I do, I work as a confidential agent, which means I spend a lot of time in the middle. Kidnappers, blackmailers. Thieves and thugs and killers.

My the things kids grow up to be.

It's not a great life. It won't get me into any history books, but it does let me be my own boss. I set my own hours, pick my own jobs. It lets me off a lot of hooks; I don't have to make a lot of compromises with my conscience.

Trying not to work when I don't need money means looking through the peephole first when someone knocks on the door to my place on Macunde street. If whoever's there looks like a prospective client, I simply don't answer.

--

It was a false spring day in the middle of January. My birthday was right around the corner there, though it didn't mean much what with it being just me and gaming consoles hanging out in my little kingdom of mess. Ok—so there were some useful computers there as well, and some cheerfully empty chip bags but I wasn't even looking at them at this point. A couple of buds had conned themselves into blooming after the five or six days of unseasonable warmth. They would regret it later.

I was lounging casually in my throne of cushions and wires when the knock came. I ignored it. Street Fighter was more worthy… even if it was so old I didn't even remember the name of the console it was supposed to match. Didn't really matter since I'd tweaked my portable to read most game types by then.

Yeah, I'm just that awesome. Hell, I was on the verge of a new record, end battle within twenty minutes.

The knock came a second time. I ignored this one too. Persistence was always a bad sign—a sign of desperation, and I didn't want a job in the first place, much less _that_ kind of job. We played that little game for the next twenty minutes—_twenty_ minutes, I say. By the time I finally got up to answer, it was because they sounded like they were trying to beat my door in with a sledgehammer.

Had they never heard of common courtesy?

I just wanted to avoid them; there was no need to force the issue.

I dragged open the door and stared boredly over at the three men towering on the other side of the hall. I lived in an apartment, by the way. Just in case you were wondering. They were all in various stages of mean. Blondie looked like he kicked puppies for fun, Baldy looked like he drowned puppies for fun, and Blacky… shit, he looked like he _ate_ puppies for fun. _Live_ puppies.

_Damnit…_ Was the only thing I could think of at that point. Definite bad idea to answer that door. I was so syked about the seven-foot-tall Men in Black that I very nearly missed the shorty standing right in front of me. Wasn't a kid. Naw, he had to be at least in his late thirties.

"Not the invasion of the dwarves and giants," my voice was completely serious, "I thought we took care of this millenniums ago." I adjusted my tinted goggles and leaned on the door frame with thumbs casually hooked in my dark jeans. I couldn't see the expressions of said giants, what with their suave, black sunglasses that made me want to laugh at the whole cliché of it. Made me think of Hitman, which I had finished playing last week. But the dwarf looked at a loss. Ok well, he looked about ready to have an aneurism. It's the same thing really.

I waited patiently for him to get to the point or storm off in a high-an-mighty huff of bruised ego. I don't think I need mention which outcome I was hoping for. He chose to simply ignore my clever barbs.

I was crushed.

Seriously.

It's not easy being that clever.

"Are you 'Matt'?" He inquired, doing a heroic job of ignoring me while he also attempted to start conversation.

"Up one floor and three doors to the right," I promptly replied before closing the door in his face. Some people… I shook my head in amusement as I flopped back onto my couch, picking up the game with renewed vigor. I'd just handed out the address of a well known basher in my area. That guy hated me. Claimed he was always getting weird visitors. Imagine that.

I was just about to take the game off pause when the banging began in earnest. If I thought it was a sledgehammer before, it was up to a battering ram by now. I sighed in resignation and climbed out of gamer haven once again. I yanked open the door this time, letting them think that I was irritated. Honestly, I don't get angry very often. But it never hurt to let people think I did.

"Fine, fine…" I conceded and stepped back to let them in. Mistake number two right there. "Explain it then get out." See that curtness? Yeah, I thought it might work too. The slightly balding little man straightened his shoulders and stepped inside. He was so tense I almost laughed. You'd think I was Dracula or something, giving him the 'Come into my lair…' line with a sinister look. Looking back, that might've been a good idea if it would've convinced him to go away.

The little man regarded my epic mess with undisguised distaste. It didn't bother me. I'd stopped caring what people thought years ago. I closed the door when it was obvious that the three stooges had been ordered to wait outside. "Alright, shoot." I prompted. He gave me an odd look but turned his attention to me anyway.

"I do not know all the details," he began. I almost kicked him out right then. It usually meant something political when someone didn't show up in person. I don't do political. "I've been instructed to take you to my superior's place where you can discuss the issue further." I stared at him. Just… why? Why do people have to make things complicated?

"Sorry, I don't take any job without knowing it first." I informed him before trying to shoo him out the door.

"We are willing to pay one hundred thousand up front if you agree to meet with him." I paused. Ok, so 100k could buy a lot of video games. Not worth it if what my gut was telling me was right. "All you have to do is speak with them, and then you can decide what to do afterward. Whatever you decide, the first payment is still yours." Tempting, man… very tempting.

"What kind of job are we talking about here?" I asked. My curiosity was piqued. What idiot offers that much without even a 'maybe' for incentive? He clammed up immediately. "Talk or you're not getting anything." I could be commanding when given incentive.

"It is…" He hesitated. "A missing person's case, I suppose." It was around then that I realized I hadn't even bothered to ask for his name. Not very important; it just occurred to me is all. I considered this for a moment. It was definitely more than just a 'missing person' deal, but I got the feeling that he wasn't going to tell me anything. In any case, I decided it couldn't hurt to see what it was about. I mean, things couldn't get much weirder than that incident with the cannibals last month, right? Yeah, cannibals. REAL ones. Not as in 'head hunting in the forests of South America' kinda cannibals. These creeps were, like… upper class. It was really sick… but I digress. I'll tell you all about it later some time.

"Alright," I agreed reluctantly. Didn't have a lot of sense back then. If I did, I wouldn't have made mistake number three right there. I looked around the room for a moment, quickly deciding what I would need. Portable gaming system immediately stuffed in the left pocket of my baggy, black cargo jeans.

A fitted, long-sleeved black shirt probably wasn't the best thing to wear to meet a prospective client, but that usually didn't occur to me. Besides that, I was hoping the guy would decide to find somebody else anyway. I grabbed a dark red T-shirt off the back of the couch and pulled it on over the black: nothing like scruffy an' casual to make people under estimate you. Last was an average backpack with a laptop stuffed in it. I rarely used it, but there was always a chance that it would be useful someday. Eventually.

Maybe.

. . . So we headed out from my place, presumably to his, or his employer's. I ushered the little rat man to the door and followed him out, though I could tell by the peeved expression that he half expected me to shut the door in his face a second time. Oh I was tempted. The three golems in suits—whom I had silently dubbed 'Larry,' 'Curly,' and 'Moe') fell into step behind us. I pulled out my game and switched it on when no conversation was forthcoming. Dwarf looked kinda put off at my seeming distraction from the world, but whatever. Not my fault he'd never heard the term 'multi-tasking.' We took the elevator down, and wasn't _that_ an interesting experience. Blondie back there practically groped me as we were getting in, that's how much space there was with Team Titan looming over me. We got out and walked to the car, racking up quite the audience as we went, I might add. I climbed into the black limousine as one of the 'body guards' opened the back door. Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking. Dwarf man soon followed me and took a seat on the other side of the car as far from me as he could get. You could feel the adoration radiating from him.

I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees as the car engine turned over, my modified PSP held casually before my legs as I manipulated the little pixilated characters. He looked even more bent when I drew a cigarette from the pack in my pocket, which I pretended not to notice when he didn't say anything.

Man I hated these rich guys. Sure they paid well for practically nothing, but they were always such prudes. Things had to be done _their_ way, when and where they wanted. Never mind that my tactics are more efficient.

Too soon, I was being pestered to haul my lazy carcass from the car. I slid out all suave-like and glanced up from my game to… survey the grounds. Interesting. Looked a lot like an over done version of the white house. Lots of marble and pillars and a whole lot of useless spending. Was sitting on around two acres and took up almost half of the obsessively tended yard.

I drifted aimlessly behind my escort, refusing to acknowledge the giants still stalking me. You'd think I was about to run rabid like a smaller, considerably less deadly, version of Godzilla. The fancy doors creaked open. Yeah, imagine that, millions of dollars to throw around and they couldn't even get their hinges oiled. I don't get rich people. I really don't.

Giant portraits suddenly assaulted my eyes. I actually had to pause my game it was so unexpected. What the hell? The damn things ringed the room. Looked like something you'd see in Buckingham Palace, with all the old dead relatives paraded on the hall walls? Yeah, like that, but with a little difference.

I pressed my lips around my cigarette as the creepy guys in the portraits scowled down at me while I walked by. The individual artists seemed hell bent on capturing each subject's inner turmoil. Every last one of those old boys was constipated. I eventually managed to ignore their stares of doom and went back to my game.

Now let me just say: there is no reason to have a house that big. I'm walking along, taking the occasional drag on my cancer stick… now when I _complete the game_ before we get to the room we need to be, _that's_ a sign that there're too many unnecessary corridors, my friend. I stuffed the console in my pocket after a while. There was no need to replay it a fourth time that day.

Finally, we arrived. Sorry to spend so much time on the journey. I digress. A lot. Tends to make me focus on unnecessary details. Anyway, I moseyed my way into The Room. A lot of the same tacky over spending. I'll admit, it was starting to get to me.

"Hey," I enacted my salutations to the person on the couch and casually waved to the black haired woman in the room. I thought she was supposed to be a guy? Ah well, maybe she was. I walked in and gave her a quick once over. Not bad. Wavy, shoulder-length, black hair, white suit, some tall no nonsense, ankle breaking pumps and red lip stick. You could tell she was used to getting what she wanted. I almost smiled. She looked like a complete bitch; I liked her already.

Her face went through various stages of disbelief, incredulity and disgust. Women can't resist my charms. We stared silently at each other for a few minutes before she daintily cleared her throat to begin.

"What have you been told?" She asked. Nice deep voice there. Kinda made me think of a porn star. We will not discuss how that particular comparison came to mind.

"A whole lot of nothing." I stated. "Something to do with missing person." She frowned slightly, looking at me as though a piece of dog shit had up and decided to talk at her. She looked hesitant for a fraction of a second, but eventually held out her arm for a handshake. I grinned. I guess I had a fatal disease I didn't know about. I reached out and clasped her hand for an instant.

"Vivian Alderic," She introduced herself. Must say, it really suited her.

"Matt." I replied in kind. She, Vivian, drew her hand away, looking as though she were about to pull out some hand sanitizer. Or bleach. I took the liberty of grabbing a seat on the sofa across from her, arms braced on legs, no video game this time. I took a long drag on my cigarette and pulled it out of my mouth to exhale the smoke. "So… feel like telling me what's going on?" I asked, smoke curling up from between my lips as I spoke. It was the first time her expression turned to something closer to distress. She slowly began to talk, filling in the details and giving me an overview of her problems.

Fuck.

What have I gotten myself into?


	2. The Life of a Hacker

Author's Note:

So, I sort of understand why people would be kinda confused at this point. So I'll give a quick idea about it. You know those fics focusing on 'L's Past Cases' and such? This is essentially a similar thought. And I know you're thinking, 'Matt/Mail was raised at Whammy's, this has completely drawn away from the original story!' I'm writing this as though there's a bit more back-story to Matt's coming to Whammy's other than 'He was an orphan, and a genius, therefore, he goes to the orphanage at a young age.' So far, he has never been portrayed as all that remarkable (completely awesome, but nothing that really shouts "I am incredible genius!" like the others), so if he doesn't have Near's incredible powers of deduction, or Mello's ability to manipulate, how did he get to that point (sorry, you don't have to be a genius to be a good hacker)? Certainly not in the typical fashion. Think of it as though he's arrived at Whammy's as a 'late comer' and is telling Mello or Near or whoever about his past a bit and the circumstances that led up to it if it helps any. I swear it'll all make sense if I ever get to the 'present' time with the original Death Note storyline. nodnod

Oh, btw, I'm very open to suggestions to this story as it is really just a way to test myself. Actually, I'm going to beg for suggestions. I have dozens of ideas for where I want this story to go, so I'd like some impute. First and foremost, what other characters (L, Aiber, Wedy, Near, Mello… maybe the original Coil and Deneuve before L beat them? Matsuda, Misa, Light, etc… etc… You get the picture) do you think MUST be in here? My storylines are very character driven, so it'll determine which direction things go. Second: should there be a pairing of some sort? If there is, I can't guaranteed it'll be with another Death Note character simply because of when this story is supposed to be taking place (a couple years before going to whammy's, so by all rights, he's not supposed to have even met any of the other characters yet), though if it is an OC character, I promise to try and make him/her as unique and awesome as the original characters.

Gah! It's such a pain writing in this style! I have to consciously make an effort not to write in perfect, complete sentences, or it loses the tone. --

**Life of a Hacker**

Now, maybe you're wondering why I'm not like that L character, locking myself up in some little basement in a fit of raving paranoia... It's simple really. Our jobs are nothing alike. I can picture your face now: 'what? You're both P.I.'s! What the hell?' Oh but there is one phenomenal difference. While he, or she (hey, you never know), spends all his time tracking down criminals and dispensing 'justice' to the world, I've more or less gained a reputation for being a safe go between with criminals and 'upright' folk. I think I mentioned this before in passing. It's all a little game. You play by the rules, everyone gets out fine.

Usually when kidnappers or blackmailers find out I'm 'on the case,' so to speak, they decide to play it straight. It's a simple transaction, whoever was stupid enough to get kidnapped gets the price set on their head, they explain it to me, I tell the family, family pays, kid goes free. That's it. That's the end. I'm not some hero who goes through hell and high water to put them behind bars afterward, so it increases the chance of them deciding to make the quick cash and get the deal over with. They _also_ know what happens when they _don't_ play it straight. It's better for all parties involved if they just keep to the rules.

This is the kinda case I was hoping for. This is what I tend to make a living off of. Was this the kinda case I got? Of course not. Irony was giggling her stupid face off at me the entire bloody time.

"So… feel like telling me what's going on?" Oh yes, back to _that_ little pill. She hesitated. Yeah, I _did_ need to know the details if I was going to help at all. Haven't quite mastered the art of telepathy yet.

"My cousin went missing nearly a week ago." She informed me. Nice. Right to the point.

"So, you think it's a kidnapping?" I wasn't really asking. Probably should have sounded more interested in the case, or at least mildly sympathetic… I've never been very good at that sort of thing.

" –Yes." My ears perked. She'd hesitated. Again. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. So Vivian either wasn't sure, or she was lying. There was also the slim chance that she was just an indecisive person by nature, but… Yeah, I didn't think so either.

"You get any demands yet?" I decided to ignore the slip up and play along with her little game for the moment. She shook her head. No. A whole week and no ransom demand? Not likely. I held my cigarette aloof as I considered things. "Victim's name?"

"Nicole Aldéric," Vivian quickly supplied. I brought the cigarette back to my lips, eyes squinting behind the goggles. Hell if I knew what's going on. I don't do the investigative thing. I come in and resolve things once everyone else has figured out what needs doing.

"Age?"

"Seventeen."

"Any reason she might take off on her own?"

"No." Damn woman… It's a pain in the ass feeling like you're playing 'Twenty Questions' with someone who gives you a fake answer every third question, let me tell ya. I frowned at her, showing her in no uncertain terms that I wasn't buying that one. She just stared back at me. Ok, so maybe being fifteen kinda took away from the intimidation factor there. She had to be at least twice my age after all. "There may have been some reasons, but nothing that would cause her to leave," Vivian elaborated, "Nicole was a very… timid person." I blinked.

" 'Was…?' " I quoted. Her face turned suddenly expressionless.

"Is." She corrected.

"You think she's dead," I murmured around the now stubby cigarette hanging out of my mouth. Her sudden defensive exclamations sealed it. "If that's the case, why'd you get me?" I interrupted dully. "This isn't my area—" There was always the chance that she had selected me specifically _because_ I was inexperienced in this area… I really was a cynic if that was the first thing that came to mind.

"Everyone knows you have ties to criminals," I smiled all innocent-like. Me? Have criminal contacts? I should be offended. "I believe that even though you do not typically handle this sort of situation, you could most likely achieve better results because of that." Made complete sense to someone who didn't know what they were talking about.

"Look," I began, "that may sound like logic to you now, but I'm not the only guy around like that and I just plain don't like these kinda cases." I stood at the end of my little speech, intending to end it there. But as fate would have it, that's not what happened. She stood with me, looking suddenly uncertain. I almost felt sorry for her; there are two types of rich people in the world: those up to their asses in intrigue, or those who were completely ignorant. As she did not seem to be able to think of one person that would be of more help than myself, I had to classify her with the latter. I didn't bother asking why she didn't go to the police. I really didn't care since I wasn't getting involved.

She shoved a folder at me, one I had not noticed while we talked. I grabbed it instinctively. "Look at it." Vivian ordered. I love it when they get all sassy. She really did strike me as a 'Queen of S&M' kinda girl. "It includes all of her information right down to the hospital she was born in." She explained. I sighed and decided to just take it. It was easier than dealing with Female Wrath raining down upon my head when I refused. I shrugged and nodded absently.

"Yes mam," I gave a lazy salute with the hand holding the folder and got my lame ass out of there. Not cool. Just… no. There was something very wrong and very twisted there and I couldn't—even if my life depended on it—say what it was. Call it intuition. Something told me there was something else going on and that I wouldn't like the result. Hey, I'm not about to argue with that.

I got the hell out of there as fast as possible. Nope. No way. Not going there. They could offer me millions and I'd still tell her to go to hell. I've never had the kinda personal motivation required to see conspiracy/missing people/murder cases like that to the end. Granted, I didn't actually know if this 'Nicole' person was dead, but that was beside the point.

Her minions met me on the way out as I was making my escape; and by 'minions,' I meant the golem trio and their handler. I was offered a courtesy ride back, which I promptly declined. As much as I loved their company, I really needed to get away from these people.

I was surprised when the guy handed me a bag of bills. Honestly, I'd completely forgotten about the 100k by then.

--

Man, you ever have one of those nights where you just want to shut the world off for a few seconds of quiet? I hope not. You're getting pretty damn close to insanity if you can imagine yourself doing that. Needless to say, it's a safe bet that I was waffling between madness and sanity by the end of that night.

I stumped my way into my apartment somewhere around eight o'clock and dumped the folder in a clear space on the floor near the desk with my computers. Slumped into my couch and pulled out my game again. I was bored with Street Fighter by that point and switched to some aimless street racing one instead. I guided the metallic-blue car through various courses, racking up money and buying upgrades for an already perfect pixilated vehicle. NOS, black lights, rims… the list was endless, really. It was awesome. Well, that's what I kept telling myself. But that infuriating folder kept staring at me. Oh, oh you claim that inanimate objects of paper can't stare? I know different. It was _there_. Not four feet away from me and I couldn't seem to forget that fact. Stupid thing… why did I agree to take it in the first place? I was never going to look at it. The car zipped around a street corner and down a straight stretch to the finish line. The options menu showed up as it automatically saved. I got up with a sigh.

Damn folder.

I picked it up reluctantly and stared at the blank surface. One look couldn't hurt. Just to see what would come up… Yeah, hah… I don't want to hear any cracks about 'famous last words,' alright? I whipped out my fourth cigarette of the night and jumped into my swivel chair throne. I hit the start-up button on my network and computers, waiting patiently for them to load. I really am an idiot sometimes. The little melody of desktop unveiling played and—

"—_AMN IT MATT! I KNOW YOU'RE HOME YOU LAZY BASTARD NOW__** PICK UP!**__"_ I dropped both cigarette and folder as the deafening, female voice pulverized my eardrums. The voice continued on this line of thought, spewing many more colourful names than the original, which I soon began to enjoy when the initial shock had worn off. Didn't know she had such a vivid vocabulary of insults.

"Uh…" I inserted my own witty comment during a pause in the ear-shattering rant. "Hey Wedy." I greeted. A little more silence. "So… What's up?" Pause.

"_Unbelievable,"_ The voice continued in a much more controlled manner, _"you really were home… Why do I have to browbeat you for hours at a time before I can get anything out of you?"_ Wedy demanded. I bit my tongue on the lewd remark I was about to spew.

"I just got back, actually," not that she'd believe me. "What d'you want?" I could never tell when she was seriously angry, or when she was just bored and acted like it. A hiss of static from the other end indicated a sigh.

"_Get me a live feed from _Musée du Louvre_."_ I rolled my eyes.

"Museums, Wedy?" I asked in exasperation. "Why?"

"_Because there's something in there I want."_ Well, obviously.

"What're you gonna do?" I was half joking. "Steal the Mona Lisa?" A split second of silence.

"_Of course not."_ I smiled. Oh there would be hell to pay if that's what she was really after. _"Look, you going to help me, or not?"_ She demanded. I pretended to think about it. Hell, there was no way I was saying 'no.'

"Did you—"

"_Yes I connected the wired bugs to a camera… what kind of amateur do you take me for?"_ I think she was honestly offended. _"You have no excuses, now get to work."_

"I love it when you go all drill sergeant on me." I muttered but logged into my little hacking network anyway. I quickly zeroed in on the specific frequency the bug was imitating and set to breaking into their surveillance system. It was child's play. Sure, it was one of the most secure places in Europe, but nothing can stand against my fantastically self-developed hacking programs of ingeniousness. It still took a good half-hour, though…

The magical beeps heralded a breakthrough.

"_It's done?"_ That was Wedy. She could be so impatient sometimes.

"Yeah," I answered unnecessarily. "What do you want me to do?" I asked as I began typing up a storm to get a quick over-view of things.

"_Do something about the cameras,"_ came an immediate response. I sighed. She acted as though it were as simple as hitting a button.

"Fine," I muttered. A couple dozen windows popped up with various areas and angles of the museum shown. "I'll give you a loop feed to keep the cameras from picking you up." Silence. "Anything else?"

"_Yes,"_ she replied_, "feel like disabling the alarms for me?"_ I groaned.

"Wedy…" I rolled my eyes. "Why…? You know how to do your own shit." She chuckled lightly on the other end of the line.

"_Darling, that's precisely _why_ I don't want to do it,"_ She lectured. _"Why waste my time on something so simple when I can get someone else to do it?"_ I grinned. A woman after my own heart right there.

"Yeah, yeah... Whatever you say, Mistress." I countered sardonically. More laugher.

"_That's better, Matty,"_ she congratulated me in the usual condescending tone, _"Now be a good boy and disable those alarms, m'kay?"_ I found myself grinning in response. Don't know what was so funny about it, but it was either laugh or be annoyed, and I just didn't have the motivation to get angry at her. It took a few minutes, but eventually everything was done.

"Alright, Wedy," I broke the silence, "you're all set for mischief and mayhem." I hit enter, which activated the intrusive little virus of doom. "You got about half an hour to get in and back out."

"_Thank you, Darling,"_ Wedy replied. Man I hated it when she started the 'darling' names; I was kinda used to them by that point, though. The connection went dead.

Damn… Would've liked the chance to find out what she was really up to. I shrugged and retrieved my cigarette and the folder from the floor. I didn't want to look at it now… but I had already decided to. I tossed it on the desk and slumped in my chair, attempting to talk myself back out of it. I brought the cigarette to my mouth and pulled out a lighter from my back pocket for a brief distraction. I puffed away on that for a minute or two, but eventually sat up and opened the annoyingly beige folder. I double checked the info in the stack of papers with what I found with my computers. So far, nothing amiss… My back straightened slightly.

This Nicole person sure seemed to visit the hospital a lot before she disappeared. Coincidence? Most likely, but I decided to go out on a limb with this one. I brought up her medical records with a couple commands and was treated to a whole lot of gibberish that I will not take the time to bore you with. The jist of it: very prone to illness. Well that was entirely unproductive. Of course she would have been going to the hospital for some sort of relapse or whatever. Dead end. I flipped through a few more files. Did I mention I hated this kinda thing? Apparently she didn't go out that often, being sensitive and easily picking up illnesses all over the place. So that would mean that she pretty much only went outside when heading for an appointment or coming back. Assuming that to be fact, she would have had to been taken during one of those times.

I tapped my fingertips impatiently on the desk. I'd've been willing to put money on the fact that it was on her way back from the hospital. I brought the medical file back up and looked at the dates for the last appointments. January eighth. Well, it matched up, and there were no later cancelled appointments…. Logically, I could assume I was right about what happened. Though I still needed more than theories. My fingers scuttled across the keyboard a few more times.

"Merrick," I called when it finally connected.

"_Fuck!"_came a startled exclamation from the speakers._ "What the hell man?!"_ A promising crash had sounded before the angry demand. I grinned. Apparently I wasn't the only one having a bad day.

"You feel up to making a quick buck?" I asked anyway.

"_No!"_ Merrick snarled, _"I _don't _want to make a quick buck! Especially from the bastard who just caused me to ruin my damn new TV!"_ I waited a few minutes for him to calm down before asking again. _"Ah fuck, why the hell not? I need the money to replace it now…"_ I gave him a quick run down on the situation.

"Nothing major, I just need you to shake a few trees, see if anything falls out, right?" I concluded. He was still seething over the TV, I could tell, but we were both professionals here. Well, we pretended to be in any case.

"_Yeah, fine,"_ and he cut the link. People really have to learn some phone courtesy around here.


	3. A Definite Murder Case

Author's Note: Sorry for the filler chapter. It's still important in setting the story up and everything. I had to include it or risk using a good four more chapters for the introduction part of the story.

Don't own anything in Kingdom Hearts either.

Me thinking that my favorite character needs to be putting in an appearance soon… Why? Just because. Who is this favorite character? That's a secret. It'll be either next chapter or the one after, I hope. This story seems to have a life of its own right now, so I can't really make any promises with what's going to happen. And yes, the story description tends to change as things progress, just because I get a better idea of what's actually going on as I develop things.

And you may be wondering where this is taking place… Don't have a specific location right now. Some place in Europe is all I know.

Btw, I'd appreciate it if someone warned me if I should ever up the rating on this fic. I've been watching Rated R movies since I was six, so I kinda have a skewed idea of "mild language/violence" and what's acceptable for teens and such… Anyway, thanks for reading.

**An Almost Definite Murder Case**

The Game Over icon winked indifferently in the middle of the thirty-inch, silver LCD TV screen for the third time that afternoon. Continue was selected and "The Battle Against Ansem" resumed after a lengthy, near memorized dialogue. Fierce, cloudy-hazel eyes seethed with concentration as my nimble fingers fluttered across the video game controller with practiced ease. Then, the predicted second stage came and Sora died within five minutes. The icon seemed a little more mocking the fourth time it appeared.

A hollow thump sounded as the couch arm was struck in frustration. I was so sick of this game. There was no logical reason that I shouldn't be able to beat the damn thing. It was so bloody simple it made me want to puke. I hated Donald Duck. All he did was get in the way, and then got stuck outside when I needed a wizard. I glanced at the blank monitor sitting on my desk. I hated _that_ thing too.

It had been four days since I had asked Merrick to look into things, and not a peep from him since. Sure, I knew that was how he usually worked, but it was still annoying, and Kingdom Hearts wasn't making it any more tolerable. I'm not a patient person by nature. I can zone out on something for hours, but if I really don't want to be doing something, I tend to get irritable and want to get it finished as soon as possible.

Not a great attitude for someone in my line of work, I'll admit.

Four days. What. The. Hell. Ok, I'll admit it. I was worried. Concerned like all hell. Merrick was one of those few classic guys left you'd accuse of trying to be a Knight in Shining Armor if given half a chance. I didn't like it when he took longer than a couple days to get back to me since it usually meant he went and did something stupid and heroic.

"Hey Matt," I was at the computers in an instant at the call, game complete forgotten. Damn it all, that definitely wasn't Merrick. "You better get down to Merrick's place." I felt my stomach tighten. Ah hell, why am I always right? I grabbed my beige vest and ran out the door. Merrick's woman wouldn't have gone so far as to break into my computers if it wasn't an emergency.

I won't bore you with a long tale of my exploits while trying to get over there. Let's just say, a lot of anxiety, a lot of spiteful, fate-induced delays and a lot of cussing. When I finally stood outside his house, I was ready to have a panic attack. Luckily, it didn't look like it. I stomped up the stairs and did the secret knock, which means I hammered and hollered at the door until Merrick's woman, Sheryl, answered it with a lead pipe and threatened to remove my head to my bellybutton region if I didn't shut up. She's a charmer, really.

I followed her inside and closed the door.

"They got him bad," She warned me before we got in the living room.

" 'They?' " I asked, but the thought soon disappeared when I saw the state of the guy on the couch. On any other day, you'd describe Merrick as a bull dog kinda guy: tall, heavy set and gruff. Loyal too. Right now… well, he looked more like a piece of meat put through the grinder. His chest and arms were heavily bandaged, a few of them already turning red from the wounds bleeding through the white fabric, and there were more than a few minor cuts on his face and legs. "Ah hell," I said aloud, "What have I told you about watching your back?" His lips twitched up in a weak smile. "And why the hell aren't you at a hospital?"

"Too many questions, kid." Merrick grunted. "You gonna shut up an' listen, or smart ass your way into ignorance?" I slumped into a chair and stared at him. Hell, we both knew he wasn't going to make it without a hospital.

"Lead On oh Guru of Knowledge," I muttered. He snorted in derision, which soon turned to a hiss of pain.

"Found the girl," He growled. I straightened abruptly. Eh? Really got that far? "She's dead now." I didn't even blink; wasn't much of a surprise after all. "Was a nice kid, too, kinda jittery, but not a bad thing about her."

"Wow, wow," I interrupted, "you talked to her?" He looked at me like I was an idiot. "You said she was dead," I pointed out in way of explanation.

"Well she weren't when I first found 'er!" He snapped impatiently. I nodded quickly. "Not real important how I found her, pretty simple-like. Seemed real nervous an' all. Was trying to get out of town. Dunno why." He frowned. What ever happened wasn't sitting well with my chivalrous friend here. "I agreed to help her if… told me was goin' on." He was pretty incoherent by that point, but I'm going to make it understandable to save time.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Am getting to that," He grunted irritably. Hey, I'd be annoyed too if I was drunk on blood loss. "I agreed and we were at one of those safe houses of Wedy's. Next thing I know there're these guys everywhere. An' they weren't there for me you know." He was glaring murderously at the ceiling by that point. "Eh, sweet kid like that dun deserve to go like that, you know?" I nodded in agreement, even though he wasn't looking at me and I'd never met her. "Managed to get a few of 'em, but there's only so much I could do. Told her to run." He shook his head, "Stupid girl tried to help, you know. Spoiled little rich kid with lots a guts got nothing on those types."

"What'd they look like?"

"Th' usual thugs. Though they seemed a bit too…" He struggled for the word he was looking for, "organized… for what you're talking 'bout." I felt a hand tap my shoulder. I looked up into Sheryl's hard, grey stare. Yeah, I got the hint. I could barely understand the guy by that point anyway. I got up to leave.

"Where did you guys get caught?" I asked.

"The east house." That was Sheryl. I nodded and turned to leave.

"They cut 'er up bad, Matt," Merrick observed. I paused. He was upset. Can't blame him. He's a real sweetheart underneath it all. "Ya make sure you get those fucks, kid." I stared down at him for a moment and nodded again.

"I'll come back when you're done being hysterical, man." I promised. "It's embarrassing, dude, being around a guy rambling like a weepy pregnant woman." He chucked bitterly—it was more of a gurgle. Yeah, we both knew he wasn't getting out of this one.

"You do that, kid." He mumbled and closed his eyes. His breath was shallow and shaky. I doubted he'd be opening them again. I turned away abruptly and headed for the door. I heard Sheryl take my chair as I rounded the corner to the front door.

I closed the door quietly behind me and headed down the street. A plastic shopping bag rolled down the side walk as the wind suddenly picked up, cars zipping by two feet to my right. I pulled out a cigarette and lit up, trying to block out what just happened. I was craving my games, but had not thought to bring them at the time.

I don't like reality. You don't get a fucking 'Try Again' option on the Game Over menu.

--

I could go into how I went back to my apartment. Give a long, poetic fucking ramble about the meaning of life and pull out something tragic and meaningful. But honestly, that just ain't my style. Was I angry? Not really. I'm not the type to be filled with romantic ideals of avenging friends and championing justice and all that shit. That's Merrick's job. I was mostly debating whether it was worth the risk to continue on or just pretend I'd never met with someone named Vivian Aldéric. I decided to poke around a little more. Call me a sentimental fool, I figured I owed the guy that much at least.

I'm just going to skip right on ahead to the point where I arrived at 'the scene of the crime,' alright? This story's going to be long enough without all that filler crap in the middle. I'd gone through some preparations, obviously, but we don't care about that part.

I stood outside the—yeah, you guessed it—warehouse. It wasn't really, but that's what it looked like—Wedy's kinda peculiar about her 'classics.' I'd gotten the cab to drop me off a good half-mile away from it and walked. Did some scouting along the way. Alright, fine. A _lot_ of scouting. I was at my perfectly paranoid peak as I approached the run down building.

Nothing at that point.

It was overcast that day. The season finally decided to return to normalcy and continue with its rainy, miserable temper tantrum. I wished it was sunny again. It made it easier to spot anyone lurking in the area. But we don't always get what we want, I know. I strolled casually up to the big double doors and cracked one of them open to slip quickly inside. I stared stupidly as I turned my attention to the room I had walked into. They hadn't even bothered to clean up after themselves. I slowly closed the sliding door behind me and walked over to inspect things. At least eight guys were scattered around the place. I forgot sometimes that Merrick tended to over exaggerate. Either he took out more than he thought, or there really was a couple dozen that stormed the place. I was never going to find out by that point.

I stared at the blood stains on the floor, trying to figure out a pattern that would tell me what happened. Where was the girl? I scanned the area, nothing. Hm… I stepped carefully through the carnage, mindful to avoid disturbing anything that could give me a clue. Because, honestly, I was completely clueless. I spotted a feminine, black-and-blue leg peeking out from behind the couch. I'll tell you right now, it doesn't get any easier as time goes by—seeing corpses, I mean. Especially when it's a girl; how much lower than that can you get? Near always gave me some stupid lecture about how it's wired into our DNA to be defensive of Female's and Offspring and all that shit. What a load of crap. Luckily I hadn't met him yet. He can be a real smug bastard sometimes.

I grabbed a thin, black cell phone from a pocket at the side of my leg. I didn't like the idea of getting more people involved, but I didn't know the first thing about dead bodies. I could make a guess: around a day and a half because all the blood had seeped to the side of the body closest to the floor and how stiff it looked… but I couldn't say for certain.

I quickly dialed up one of the few people I could count on to help me out and waited impatiently for him to pick up. I looked at the girl again and shook my head. I knew what Merrick meant when he'd been rambling. She'd been stabbed several times before death, I could tell by the sticky steaks on the floor that indicated when she had tried to crawl away before someone had finally cut her throat. I turned my attention from the permanently horrified expression etched into her face, feeling sick to my stomach from what I observed.

"Hey," I greeted quietly as the phone was finally answered. "Don't hang up." There was silence on the other side of the line. "Would you mind checking something out for me?" I asked. A sigh.

"Very well." A deep voice replied. "Where are you?"

"East warehouse off of fifth."

"I'll be there." A dull dial tone sounded as he hung up. That guy was too perceptive for comfort. I reluctantly returned my attention to the scene around me and pulled out a digital camera. Might as well pretend to be interested in it now that I was there.

--

I heard the van pull up outside the building. I wasn't worried; I knew the sound of that vehicle anywhere. I'd been poking around for the past five hours and was slumped against the wall, munching on a cereal bar to kill some time. I heard boots crunching on the gravel as someone approached, but just adjusted my goggles and waited for him to get inside. The door creaked open and in came Alan Morris. Sometimes I wondered if that was really his real name. His eyebrows migrated somewhere into the vicinity of his hairline as he took in the sights and then saw me sitting casually against the wall to his left. I waved to him.

"Welcome to my cave of death," I hailed. He grinned in response. Yeah, we're both kinda twisted like that. He and I go way back. He's ex-FBI in his early fifties, though you'd think he was a good fifteen years younger to look at him. Kinda took me under his wing when he found me in the bloody mess that used to be my house when I was little, though he'd never admit it.

He quietly regarded the mess around us before turning his attention back to me. "Just like home, eh?" I rolled my eyes at the coincidence. Hey, I'm not about to go into hysterics. I don't like to dwell on the past. His nose wrinkled in disgust. "It stinks in here."

"Yeah, whatever you say, Al." I muttered. He shrugged and waited for me to give him the details. Reluctantly, I obliged. Each insignificant detail, every pointless musing I spewed up onto the proverbial table along with all the important stuff. He was silent for a few minutes afterward and went to examine the bodies for clues. He slowly worked his way back to me after nearly an hour of looking at corpses.

"I would say you're—"

"Al, don't," I interrupted. "I'm not getting too emotionally involved here, and you know it. I learned my lesson last time." Morris gave me a skeptical stare… I wouldn't believe me either. "So what do you think?" I needed a fresh perspective on things. He leaned on the wall next to me and looked at the bodies again to organize his thoughts.

"Matt," I looked up into far too serious eyes and waited for an answer, "I think…" He slowly crossed his arms. "You need more fiber in your diet." I stared.

. . . Eh?

"Al…"

"You are what you eat, kid," He went into epic lecture mode, "It's no wonder you feel like crap all the time, smoking and living off energy bars. You'd be amazed at how easy it is to fight off depression with a few vegetables…"

"You're so full of shit, Al." He grinned. "And who the hell said I was depressed?" It was a rhetorical question. "Never mind, you know what I'm talking about." His expression turned suddenly serious.

"I do not think you deserve my words of wisdom right now." I groaned and banged my head against the wall in frustration.

"Why the hell not?" I asked around the cigarette in my mouth.

"Because the answer is staring you right in the face." He promptly replied. "If you took a moment to step back and think about it, you would be able to see it. Try exercising some of your own genius on this one."

"I don't want to."

"Tough." I gritted my teeth, accidentally mashing a part of the cigarette in my mouth. I spat it out in disgust and pulled out a new one.

"You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?" He nodded in agreement. I sighed and twirled the unlit nicotine stick between my index and middle finger. "What did you find with the bodies?" He shrugged.

"Nothing too amazing." He said. "The girl was three months pregnant." Ah hell. I could almost hear the dramatic music and the narrator with the deep voice going _'And the plot thickens'_ in the middle of some weird soap opera mystery show.

"Well that just makes things perfectly clear." I muttered, slightly miffed that I had not noticed the fact on my own. So, was this a personal issue or something bigger? It was damn near impossible to decide. I'd have been willing to bet anything that she had gotten mixed up in something, seen something she shouldn't have or whatever. But that stupid pregnancy brought in a chance that it was not some organization trying to shut her up. A 17.4 percent chance as a lot of my later acquaintances would put it.

"I think we're done here." Alan stated. "Got photos and all that?" I shrugged and held up the camera.

"Yeah."

"Are you going to call the police?"

"No. They'll find her eventually on their own."

"You aren't worried they will miss out on evidence if it gets too old?"

"I'll loan them my photo collection." I levered myself up from the ground, grabbed my laptop bag and headed for the door.

--

I resisted the urge to throw my hands up in disgust as an answer continued to elude me. I can't come up with a bunch of theories and act as though the most likely one is fact. It's impossible. That's not how reality truly works.

I was sitting in the passenger seat of Al's van, looking over the pictures of the scene I had just left since it was easier to focus without the stench of decaying bodies distracting me. It'd be nice if I could pretend that these were all just little pieces in a puzzle and stick them together. It wasn't working so far. I just didn't have enough information, and not enough connections to get anywhere with it.

"Having fun?" I glared at the smug ex-cop next to me but refrained from comment. He was unworthy of my brilliant retorts. Al pulled up to my apartment building and handed me a little card paper thing with some numbers on it. I quickly deduced that it was a server number.

"You can give this a try. I'm sure you'll find enough information on there if you're clever enough to avoid getting caught." I snapped the laptop shut and gave him a funny look. Not that he could see it since my goggles were in the way… but you get the point. "Just don't ask how I got it." I stared at the numbers for a moment, wondering what he was talking about and more hesitant to try it now that he wouldn't tell me the source. I shrugged.

"Thanks, I guess." Who was I kidding? I was definitely going to use it. I pushed open the door and climbed out onto the sidewalk.

"I'll keep my ears open for anything." Al stated. I nodded in appreciation. "Don't do anything too stupid." He warned me. I grinned and closed the door before heading for the apartment entrance. That was as close to a 'be careful' he would ever get too. Because, of course, old Morris is incapable of caring for people.

--

That server was evil. E-V-I-L, okay? I'll say it again: Pure Evil. Got it?

First of all, even knowing the server number, it wouldn't just let me in. Ohh, no. Couldn't have something finally go right for me now, could we? There were firewalls, encrypted files—often false ones, I might add—all over the place, password protection… even freaking self-evolving, anti-hacking programs on every damn insignificant thing. While one side of me was ready to scream in frustration, the other was cackling gleefully as I slowly thwarted each barrier. Even a sleuth like me can appreciate a good challenge.

Second, when I finally 'got past' everything, I learned that there was a program—several programs, in fact—that would alert the other users to foreign presences in the server. Had to reprogram my damn computer to make it think that it was the same computer as the others. It got a lot more complicated after that, but I won't go into it. Lets just say; I pulled an all-nighter and even then had to tiptoe through files to avoid upsetting everything I had managed to accomplish.

Oddly enough, I recognized the system somehow. Alright, enough with my satanic computers rant, let's get to the actual point of this.

I had no idea what was on this server or even where to start with my search. By then I was almost entirely convinced that it was some gang situation, but where to start? I started bringing up every shady organization in the area. Oh yeah, I was in Europe, by the way. I even checked surrounding areas to make sure I didn't rule out any possibilities. Hundreds of possibilities. I pushed my goggles up onto my forehead and rubbed my eyes as though that would help with my headache. I squinted at the monitor, silently willing it to give me the answers. It remained stubbornly silent. So I proceeded to do what any sane person would do in that situation: start from the top and read every last one of them. I mentally sorted through likely and unlikely groups as I went along.

It was eight o'clock at night when Alan finally called.

I whipped out my cell phone happily, relieved to have some form of distraction from the endless files before me.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing," came the disappointing reply. "No pay offs, no abrupt takes, nothing." Well that blew _my_ theory.

"That's wonderful, Al." I grumbled, clicking on the ninety-sixth file.

"There seems to be a rash of murders going on, though." Really now? I perked up considerably at this. Could some of them be related? I began dragging up files on recent murders; why the hell hadn't it occurred to me before? Because I'm an idiot, that's why. I get so mixed up in details that the bigger picture runs screaming into the sunset while I remain completely oblivious to it.

Fingertips raced across the keyboard as I scanned murder victims. There were hundreds. Maybe even thousands to sort through in Europe alone, but it was pretty obvious to figure out that women were being targeted to a degree. It seemed to be worldwide, they'd go missing for a week, then turn up brutally murdered… This wasn't it, was it? I collected all the ones that could roughly be put in that category. Let's just say there were a lot of them. It was so bloody tedious, I wanted to just go to bed at that point.

I stared at the list for several minutes. Something wasn't right. I was narrowing in too much again. I hit a few keys to have the list projected onto the giant plasma screen dominating the wall behind my desk so I could look at everything without scrolling around. Huh. It was so blatantly simple. I don't trust simple. Soon I brought all of the other murder victims back onto the screen, sorted by date, gender and area of the world. Oh hell. This wasn't getting me anywhere either. Well that's lie. There was definitely something there. A pattern, or maybe just wishful thinking. The problem was that it was so complex and riddled with the everyday deaths that I couldn't figure it out. I couldn't even decide if I was imagining things.

"Hey Matt?" I blinked. Forgot about Al on the other line.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing anyway?" I'm almost certain he already knew.

"Playing with your server information thing of epic win," I answered, "why?" And then there was silence.

"Uh…" I could hear him trying to hold back laughter. "I can't believe you actually went along with it." I rolled my eyes and put my goggles back in place.

"Of course I did," I said, "Why'd you give it to me if you didn't expect me to use it?"

"Never mind that," I pulled the cell phone away from my ear to glare at the receiver. "Just don't get caught."

"I don't need you to tell me that." I mumbled, staring at the big screen with a good couple hundred thousand names on it. I had begun to mentally picture a map in my head of the places and people without realizing it. "Call me back when you hear anything else." I clipped the phone closed and put it on the desk next to my keyboard, still staring at the TV. I started to eliminate names. Not sure what compelled me to keep some, but get rid of others. Intuition, I guess. Hey, don't knock it. Apparently intuition is 'merely the subconscious dissecting facts faster than the mind can acknowledge them.' I tend to worry about the middle part after I get to the answer.

I grabbed my lighter and lit the cigarette that had been sitting unlit in my mouth since three o'clock that morning. Thirteen? I frowned. That's what I ended up with when mostly finished taking out the names that didn't seem to fit. Why 13? Thirteen is unlucky… Kinda harbinger of all hell and such… Friday the thirteenth… fantastic. I was kinda rambling along, hoping that something would come to mind. Wasn't working that time either. What sick bastard had the time and patience to have thirteen on a global scale? Not to mention the calculations to get the right place and… I'll admit I was in awe of this group. _Way_ too much time on their hands. How bored did you have to be to start plotting something that elaborate and twisted?

"Matty! Guess what!" I swear my face went green as Wedy's voice suddenly emitted from the computer speakers. My computer went on sudden lock-down at the sudden intrusion. Damn it. I jumped at the keyboard. There was a chance of resolving things before the software in the server picked it up. Damn it! I could tell in an instant that the other server had sensed the breach. Abso-fucking-lutely wonderful.

The screen went suddenly white. And I thought things couldn't get any worse.

"Thanks Wedy," I mumbled, "thanks a lot."

"No problem, honey," Came her chipper voice before it cut out.

Damn it.


	4. Busted

Author's Note: I so sorry for not updating sooner! Probably obvious, but I'm loosing steam on this one already. xP I only have a vague idea where it's going, so there's no specific drive behind it right now. I'll do what I can, but it may take a while for updates with work being the way it is and because of the lack of motivation.

Btw, I am extremely unhappy with this chapter. The pacing is all off, I've lost the tone… just yeah, not my greatest work.

And omg this is awesome! So many more Matt-centric stories have been popping up lately! They make me so happy. –dances around- Though it's kind of annoying that Mello is in a lot of them as well… xP Not that Mello isn't awesome, but Matt usually gets stuck as a supporting character again when he's in them.

Huh… What d'you guys think of an odd supernatural twist to the case? Yay? Nay? Like I said, my brain is very diverse with this story at the moment and I'm fishing for ideas. XD Well, not ideas per say, opinions on the crack-brained thoughts that pop into my head. I can come up with a dozen storylines for either case (supernatural or 'normal'), though I suppose this would stray further into AU territory than I was intending… -shrug- Meh. So what do you think?

**Busted**

This day that I'm about to tell you about, this sudden twist, is the critical turning point that eventually led my life down the path that it took in the years to come. Believe me, life can be a real cruel bitch when she wants to be. Some of you might call it Fate. Some of you might call it a very big coincidence. And some of you might even have my views and call it a real messed up situation. What was this situation? What was this _incredibly_ momentous epiphany into the great universe of the Unknown?

Sitting there on my fifty inch plasma screen was a giant, five-foot-tall fucking '**L**' staring down at me in all its old-English, black-and-white glory. I didn't know what to think when that showed up. 'Ohh… so _that's_ why there's so much info on criminals…' just didn't seem to say it at that point. My brain started to do fancy little summersaults in my skull as it tried to catch up with what my eyes were seeing.

"_This is L."_ Came the computerized voice from my speakers. Really now? I struggled for something intelligent to say. Not an easy feat with the aforementioned epileptic gibberings of my mind.

"Hi." I said. There was nearly a three second pause as the voice on the other side tried to fend off the shock my luminous wit must have induced.

"_You had best explain what you are doing in my server."_ I sighed, still a little bug-eyed. We both knew already; this was just a way to rub it in that I had been caught.

"Would it help if I said I didn't know it was yours?" I asked. I assumed the silence meant 'no.' I frowned suddenly. There was no _way_ this was by accident. People like Al don't just stumble across servers like that. "Looking up some stuff related to a case I was asked to look into." I answered the earlier question.

"_What did you find?"_ I glared at the screen. Alright, this was definitely a set-up.

"You gave Al that damn server number on purpose." I accused abruptly. Maybe not a good idea to start pointing fingers…

"_I did not."_ The high-pitched, altered voice countered. You know those computers from Star Trek that have personalities and talk? That is what this conversation felt like. My stupid computer was suddenly giving me back talk.

"Yes," I argued, "You did." I was going out on a limb here; if I wasn't so arrogant, the situation would have never occurred to me. I got the sneaking suspicion that he had given me access to the server to see if I could come to any conclusions and then proceed to blackmail me into working for him for hacking highly classified files (life in jail didn't sound too appealing…). If I hadn't been smart enough to come up with the small theories about the murders, he probably would've just arrested me. "If not, then where the hell are the squads of CIA guys charging in to arrest me?" I asked before explaining the crack-brained situation that had popped into my head.

"_Very good,"_ It was still monotone, but I was convinced that the voice was mocking me. _"What do you intend to do about it?"_ I paused. What _did_ I plan to do about it? I may have figured out his angle, but that didn't help me get out of it. I grinned. That was a sneaky move.

"Looks like I'm going to be working for you after all." I stated. Never underestimate the virtues of prudence; 'fighting against the establishment' had never been a very big priority of mine, and I'd rather not be handed the Go to Jail card anytime soon. I envisioned a devious grin from Mr. Anonymous with the next sentence:

"_I see." _

You know, there could have been a million meanings behind that simple statement. It could have been an I'm-glad-you-see-it-my-way kinda 'I see;' or an I'm-currently-gloating-my-superiority-over-you 'I see;' or a that-was-too-easy-I-don't-like-you-anymore-you-stupid-pansy 'I see…' Alright, I'll just stop there before it deteriorates too much. You probably get the point by now.

"So…" Awkward silence ruled my kingdom temporarily. "What d'you want me to do first?" Hell, now that I didn't need to worry about the important shit, this case didn't seem so bad.

"_State anything you discovered about the case."_

"That's kinda open ended, don't you think?" I asked rhetorically. "I'm Matt, by the way." I introduced myself suddenly. He probably already new, but I guess I'm just old fashioned like that.

"_Do not change the subject."_ Not very chatty.

"I didn't." I was positively oozing innocence. Rather than comment on my fantastical come back, he clarified that I needed to explain the details of the case I had been 'hired' for and what led me to a global scale search.

. . .

Should have known the bastard had been watching the entire time. I leaned back in my chair with a sigh, smoke curling from between my lips as I exhaled. I figuratively twiddled my thumbs as I paused to think about how much I thought I knew. I shrugged and decided to just wing it, there's only so much you can learn in two days after all.

"I'm not entirely convinced that it isn't an isolated incident, simply because Nicole was from a high class family and turned out to be pregnant." I stated to begin with. "But it's a relatively low chance, so I've been looking into things under the assumption that there is more to it than a family dispute, which led to the fact that there are more women being targeted throughout Europe and North America, along with a few in Asia." I brought up the map-list I'd created, though most of the 'map' part of it was in my mind. I had no doubt my system was so thoroughly raped by that point that he could look at whatever was on the monitor. I didn't wait for an acknowledgement before continuing. "It doesn't add up, though." I stated. "It's like they're a blatant distraction from whatever is really going on. There's some sort of pattern there, but I keep getting dragged back to the obvious signs that I know aren't part of the solution." Oh I was definitely rambling. Intelligent sounding or not, it was still rambling, and we both knew it.

I pulled the cigarette out of my mouth so I could talk faster. "These are all the unnatural deaths on a global scale," I started going through the process of elimination I had acted upon earlier and got to the funny little thirteen thing. I waited a few seconds once I was finished for L to respond.

"_What decided the eliminations?"_ He asked. I shrugged.

"Dunno yet." Silence.

"_It is not a '13.'"_

"Eh?" That was kind of abrupt.

"_It is a 'B.' "_ My eyes narrowed at the gothic **L** on my TV. It was so not a 'B,' any blind idiot would know a thirteen when they saw one.

"What makes you so confident?" I asked instead. Sure Matt, go right ahead and call your non-boss an idiot to his face – figuratively speaking, of course.

"_I already have my suspicions of who the culprit is."_ The voice replied blandly. I didn't ask. I already knew he wasn't going to tell me, but damn it all, it _wasn't_ a stupid 'B!' _"You will act as my eyes and ears in the Central European area from now on."_ The subject suddenly changed. I nodded before remembering that he couldn't use X-Ray vision or whatever to view me through my computer monitor.

"Yeah, sure." I said aloud. There really was no point in resisting. A window suddenly appeared on my screen, profiling some sort of company or building.

"_You will find out all you can about this."_ I sighed; I would, but only because he asked oh-so-nicely. I scanned the page and discovered that it was actually the hospital that Nicole had gone to. What an interesting and perfectly innocent coincidence.

"Mm-hm," I acknowledged, already thinking of what areas of their databases I'd have to get into and trying to decide whether or not I would have to go there in person to discover anything.

"_I will contact you in two days."_ And with that the TV went back to showing my desktop. I stared at it for several minutes, wondering what the hell kinda karma I must have built up to deserve _this_ freaky little twist. I shrugged indifferently and flicked on my DS. I could afford to waste a few hours before work now that I knew what I was looking for.


	5. Investigation

Author's Note: Gah! DX I swear this story has not been abandoned, I was just getting my other fic underway. So now I should be able to juggle both. I expect updates to take no longer than just over a week, but that may always change because I'm not one of those people that has the story already written. This crap is being made up on the spot and then thrown out there as soon as I finish proof-reading for typos, which is why it'll sometimes take longer if I get stuck.

Anyway! Got my garlic chicken wings, and my chocolate mousse cake, and my orange juice… all set for writing the next installment!

**Investigation**

I'm almost certain I'll be blind by the time I turn forty-five: you can't get away with pulling all-nighters to stare at a screen for hours on end without consequences. Unfortunately, this was starting to become a regular occurrence. I had been searching databases for nearly a day and a half, and nothing in particular was jumping out. Sure, I found some evidence of organ trafficking, but I really didn't care about that sort of thing. I had moved into background checks on all hospital personnel a couple hours ago, which was proving to be just as pointless. Any minute, I was tempted to storm off into the middle of the street and start ranting about L's chronic insanity to get me stuck in an asylum. Where the hell did he get the idea that this hospital was important? By stupid means, no doubt. Him and his stupid theories on his stupid computers, which got me stuck in this stupid situation in the stupid first place because of my own stupid stupidity! Not to sound repetitive, but the whole thing was fucking stupid.

Rolling my eyes, I printed off what little information I had managed to wrack up. I shoved the papers in the beige folder. It was time to do a little of my own legwork; Al would approve of the exercise. I was soon in my bedroom, stocking up on all my electronic goodies. Handheld went in my vest pocket, decoder in the other vest pocket, signal scrambler thing… Ok, so there are considerably more technical terms for them, but I'm too lazy to remember it right now. I didn't want to carry anything that wasn't already attached to me in some way. I still remembered what happened to Merrick and had no intention of carrying anything that couldn't be dropped in a hurry so I could make a run for it.

And don't go pointing fingers about who's being a coward here. I was fifteen, and really not in the mood for getting killed anytime soon. I'm still not, but that's beside the point. After stashing all my little do-hickeys away, I grabbed a tazer—two, actually—one that looked more like a gun and would shoot the little metal prongs up to twenty feet away, and another that I would have to get close enough to touch the guy with it. I briefly considered taking an actual gun, with bullets and stuff, but that seemed a little overkill. Last of all was a pocket knife… with a lazer pointer. Don't know why I needed a lazer pointer, but it could be fun to play with when I got caught and was stuck sitting in Mr. Sinister's dungeon… Blind the guards periodically for shits and giggles before they finally got pissed off enough to punch my head in…

…

Anyway, I got everything together, grabbed an extra pack of smokes and headed out on my grand investigation. Well, that didn't quite happen. I opened the door to find none other than Vivian Aldéric on my doorstep. I paused with my hand gripping the door, my surprise luckily masked by the goggles.

"Heya, Vivian…" My expression may have been covered, but even I could hear the curiosity/surprise/concern in my voice. She stood with arms crossed as though expecting something from me. "What's up?"

"I'm going with you." I stared… And stared. Alright, that's a lie: I laughed. Oh if looks could kill; my face would have been melted off years ago.

"You've got to be kidding…" I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck as I thought. Did she have any idea what she was getting into? "Did you bring a gun?" I asked. She looked at me like I was an idiot. "Then no." Obviously she did not understand how serious the situation was if she didn't think she might need to protect herself. And the hell if _I_ was going to do it; I'd sooner use the bitch as a human shield than lose my life protecting her.

"You sound like you have a choice." She said stiffly. I sighed. What the hell?

"And you sound like you're trying to sabotage my investigation." Her eyes blazed in response to that. I literally thought she was going to spontaneously combust. Her next expression clearly stated that she didn't care either way, though I was fairly certain it was an act. I shrugged.

"Whatever, do what you want." I muttered and pushed past her to get out of my apartment. I locked the door behind me and started down the hall, my new, bitchy, _female_ shadow strutting right behind me.

--

"Damnit woman, can you at least _pretend_ to be inconspicuous?" I growled as she took her sweet time walking across the backyard.

"Says the boy pulling a break-and-enter in the middle of the day," she countered. I rolled my eyes; that wasn't even worth comment. Any idiot knew that it was best to show up when no one was going to be home.

Who was it that I was paying an unexpected and unwelcome visit to that lovely afternoon?

His name was Gregory-something-rather. Hey, it was years ago, and I have this handy little selective memory that lets me forget unimportant details (along with a few important ones as well). Officially he was your typical, stand-up corporate lapdog. During my computerized snooping, I managed to pick up on some funds that must have been granted to 'Mr. Greg' by the Magical Money-Tree Fairy, because there was no origin. It was like millions of dollars appeared out of thin air – which would be awesome if it actually happened, but I'm too much of a cynic to believe in _that_ little fairy.

I leaned casually against the wall of the house next to a small maple tree when Madam Vivian finally got there. What few cameras I could see would not be able to see us at that angle, so I decided to check things from there first. Pulling out my handy little handheld, I began poking away at the screen. Hopefully the cameras were remote, or it would make my life _so_ much more difficult… Success!

I ignored the woman's pestering for answers as the little computer downloaded the house layout. A few minutes later, I had the camera signals programmed into it to give me an idea of security. Not too bad. The worst of it was predictably outside of the house: these rich types are paranoid and like their privacy. I could only hope that the guy didn't have guard dogs. Why? Me and dogs never got along much: I think they're all secretly homicidal maniacs underneath cute stares and wagging tails… and snarling teeth…

"Make yourself useful," I muttered and pointed at a camera directly above us; luckily it was surveying the yard. I handed her the tiny electrode and explained that I needed her to attach it to the wires in the camera. She gave me the 'are-you-stupid' look as she held the device between thumb and forefinger as though expecting it to attack her.

"Pray tell, Mr. Investigator sir, how am I supposed to reach it?" I sighed.

"I'll have to lift you."

"…" There was a long, pointless argument that I will not bore you with. Maybe, if I had taken the time to be witty, I'd include it for laughs, but I didn't. I did my fun little loop feed trick I'd loaned to Wedy – man I wished I could afford her at that point. This would be a cake walk for her, but her salary was… a hell of a lot more money than I'd ever see in one lifetime. Come to think of it, Miss Bitch here reminded me a lot of Wedy – minus the charming disposition and love of the law.

I proceeded with my home invasion. Got in the back door and ran to find the alarm panel. The police would give me about thirty seconds to disable it before they sent a squad to the house… Hah, no problem. I counted silently in my head as I ran to the front of the house. Twenty-seven… Twenty-five… Twenty-two… I bashed my shoulder into a corner as I skidded into the 'lobby' area and leapt at the little square panel with the numbers for entering security codes.

"Shit-damn-bugger-fuck!-piece-of-goddamn…" I was swearing like a sailor. My shoulder hurt like a bitch and I had a grand total of eighteen seconds left. I ripped the plastic covering off and began clipping and plugging things into the mystical decoder device I'd brought along. Thirteen… Twelve… I waited impatiently for the decoder to work its magic. Seven… Six… Five… Four… The gadget beeped excitedly as it solved the puzzle. I slowly let out the breath I had been holding and continued to stare at the evil electronics facing me. I detached the decoder from its new friend and stuffed it in my pocket in time to see Vivian peering dubiously into the entrance hall.

"Is there a particular reason you felt the need to go tearing through the house like a madman?" She inquired and stepped out of the hallway.

"Seemed like a fun idea at the time." I murmured absently and started looking for the stairs. "Check down here for an office or anything suspicious." I didn't expect her to find anything. I minced to the stairs found down another hallway and stomped my way up them. At least then I'd know if anyone was home and about to ambush me.

I wandered quickly through the house, pausing in each room long enough to do a quick scan. In all honesty, I wasn't really expecting to come up with something. Subtle mental analysis of data ain't my style. I usually just jump in the pond and start thrashing 'til the frogs start jumping.

I made it to the office/sitting area/library of answers and started poking around. The two walls to the side were covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves, a desk sat at the far side of the room with a couple of couches and a coffee table arranged in front of it. Seemed too obvious to have anything important stored there, but hey, it was worth a shot. I hooked my handheld up to his computer and downloaded everything I could get my hands on. While the little computer was puttering away on that, I went through desk drawers, shelves, even kicked the floor a few times to make sure there were no hidden compartments (which, by the way, never happens. I think even criminals feel lame using such a cliché).

I nearly smacked myself when I noticed the letter staring me right in the face:

_So-and-so,_ (I still don't remember the guy's name…)

_The information you provided was most helpful as Success has now been taken care of. Your old friend Sarika is in town again. Keep an eye on your accounts with the market being so fastidious lately._

_Nicole._

I stared at it. It was just a simple little hand-written note, probably from a coworker… or his accountant… Except the first sentence was weird, and Nicole's name was on it… In hand-writing that was very obviously not hers. I shrugged and snapped a picture of it. No use in taking it and letting the guy know that he's being investigated. I snooped around a little more after that, but honestly, unless there was something on that computer (which I intended to analyze when I got back to my place), then there was probably nothing to be found at the house.

I unhooked the blackberry when it was done and headed for the exit, trying to think of a way to ditch Vivian – or at least piss her off enough that she never wanted to see me again.

--

My return home was… interesting. I say 'interesting' because there really was no other word for it. I walked up the stairs to find Wedy closing the door to my apartment behind her. _Very_ interesting indeed.

"Hey Wedy," I greeted as though I hadn't just caught her leaving my place after whatever-it-was-she-was-doing. "Aren't you supposed to be in Paris?" She smiled condescendingly at me as I approached, her hands resting firmly on hips.

"It doesn't take me _that_ long to finish a job, Matty." She drawled. I showed her my raised-eyebrow trick and looked at the door in inquiry. I guess my goggles got in the way of my silent communication because she didn't take the hint and suddenly start a remorseful confession of how horrible it was to invade the privacy of a long term comrade. "Got a light?" She asked, pulling a pack of smokes from inside her jacket. I rolled my eyes and produced the requested lighter. I waited as she took her time fiddling with the lighter.

"Look, what're you doing here?" I finally asked. I didn't care too much as long as if nothing was missing, but it was worth a shot. Wedy shrugged and lit her cigarette. She snapped the clasp shut and handed my lighter back, although it was with some reluctance that she did so.

"Where'd you find a classic like that, Darling?" She was referring to the engraved sterling silver lighter she had just been using. I sighed, refusing to fall for the 'pet name' distraction.

"You know I hate it when you call me that," I swear it's impossible to intimidate that woman, "now why are you here?" Wedy smiled benignly at me through her sunglasses.

"Just running an errand." She said. "I didn't take anything if that's what you're worried about." Chuckling to herself she brushed past me and headed down the stairs, dark-red, leather pants squeaking lightly as she walked. She gave a toss of her blond hair and waved over her shoulder before disappearing from view. There was really no stopping that woman.

I pushed open the door to my place and made my way inside. She had left the lights one: how thoughtful. Everything seemed normal until I got to my 'Everything Room,' with the computers and couch and TV and all that. There was a new addition to the ensemble: A thin, black and silver laptop in the middle of my coffee table.

"Wow, never expected an early birthday present from Wedy of all people." I muttered sardonically as I moved toward it. There had to be a catch. The catch was revealed when a familiar – and decidedly unwelcome – computerized voice came from the speakers, a black **L** appearing in the middle of the laptop's screen.

"_What have you learned?"_ It asked. I stared at the laptop dumbly. Wonderful. Now I got to live with something that actually embodied the anonymous detective. _"While that was not my original intention, I suppose you could see it that way if you chose."_ Oops. Didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Dude, aren't you at all concerned I might use that thing to hack your computers again, or something?" I flopped into the yellow polka-dotted bean bag chair next to the table, ignoring the couch entirely.

"_That is impossible."_ The computer deadpanned. _Is that so…?_ I thought as I reached over to test out the keyboard. Nothing happened. I lifted my goggles in disbelief and poked a few more keys. Still nothing. _"As I said,"_ The synthesizer couldn't quite cover the computer's smugness, _"Quite impossible."_ I grinned at the tiny motion sensing camera clipped to the top of the laptop's monitor.

"Was worth a try," I said in way of explanation.

"_Indeed."_ I sighed and held up the camera and folder.

"There wasn't much," I muttered and plugged the digital camera and handheld into the laptop, assuming that was why the thing was there: to make information transfer more secure. "But I also haven't been able to do a thorough search of all the people that could lead to a connection."

"_I see,"_ came the monotonous response. I waited as L loaded the files I had collected. _"I did not expect you to turn up anything."_ I shrugged noncommittally. Then why did he have me working on the case? That was one question that I was not going to voice aloud, mainly because I already had an idea of what he was doing – and I didn't like it. _"Why does your profile say you are twenty-one?"_ I smiled innocently for the webcam. Been wondering when that would come up once he got a look at me.

"Because I told it to," I wasn't about to tell him this, but honestly, every last one of those licenses and graduate degrees that would be listed there were forged. I dropped out of school in seventh grade, if you can believe it. Got tired of the constant nagging to pay attention in class: never mind that my grades were perfectly fine even without doing any of the homework. My teachers hated me too. I was the kid they'd accuse of not listening and pull the 'Well, if you're so smart, care to give the class a lecture on the economic effects of such-and-such-from-blah-of-this' and then have to sit and listen to a far more interesting (but undeniably accurate) account of the World Wars, or whatever we had been discussing at the time.

Getting shit-kicked for frequently humiliating my classmates was also another incentive to leave. I'd been advanced to middle school at age nine because I guess my elementary school teachers were tired of feeling less intelligent than me. Anyway, it led to lots of conflict with my classmates.

"_Where did you find the note?"_ The electronic voice cut into my musings. I gave him the name and waited. And waited… And just for good measure, I waited some more.

"Can we stop this game now?" I asked abruptly. Silence. "Look, I know you've already figured out who's behind this—whether it's one person, or several people—and are just trying to rack up evidence. It'll be a whole lot easier if you give me an idea of what I'm supposed to be looking for."

"_That will not work."_

"Why not?" Blackmail be damned, I was impatient with how slow things were going.

"_Because I have already tried that approach and thus far you have found more than any of the others."_ I pulled my goggles right off, whipped out a cigarette and scruffed up my hair impatiently.

"What 'others?'" If I were inclined toward violent tendencies, I would have snapped the laptop in half with the next statement:

"_That information is unnecessary."_ I settled for kicking it off the table. _"That was uncalled for."_ The computer lectured me from its sideways position on the floor. 'Uncalled for' my ass. If my budding theory was right, he deserved a hell of a lot more than a kicked computer… an encounter with several sharp and painful objects would be a good start.

"Ever occur to you that I just might be more competent than the other guys?" I murmured around the cancer stick between my lips. I lit up and lounged back in the cozy bean bag seat, goggles hanging from my wrist as I unhooked the handheld and began perusing the copied hard drive of a Mr. Gary so-and-so.

"_No."_ I scoffed outright at that response before I grabbed the laptop and tossed it onto the couch where it could sit upright. The little camera turned until it was once again fixed on me. It was almost creepy, but not quite because I still couldn't bring myself to think of the voice as belonging to an actual person.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." I muttered sarcastically.

"_You are welcome,"_ I paused and cast a sidelong glance at the innocently blank **L** on the monitor. If that computer was going to start developing a personality I swore I'd drown it. It was going to be hard enough working with the manipulative bastard without him growing a sense of humor on top of it all.

"Does that note mean anything to you?" I asked, still flipping through copied computer files.

"_Not at the moment."_ The laptop promptly replied.

"The first line is probably referring to Nicole."

"_What makes you say that?"_ I swear that voice was amused. Stock market investments… pornography downloads… man, there really wasn't anything incriminating on those files.

"Well if I remember my language origins correctly, Nicholas originated from a Greek word meaning 'Victory of the People.' Success is a synonym with victory and Nicole is merely the feminine form of that name. Sarika is probably significant as well." You know, that was probably the strangest 'investigative meeting' I had even been involved in. Mainly I was bouncing ideas off someone that I couldn't conceive actually existing outside of that laptop while said person was laying the groundwork for… well, I don't want to give anything away just yet. "It's Native American for parrot or bird. Of course, that doesn't help much, but that's because _I_ don't know who's involved in this mess." I was hoping he'd take the hint, but the laptop stayed silent.

"_An interesting theory,"_ He said finally. I shrugged. Didn't care if he was taking my opinions seriously or not, but it would have been nice to get some impute as well. We both worked in comfortable silence for the next half-hour. Well, I know _I_ was working; I couldn't be sure about the other guy, but he's L, so I'd assume he had better things to do other than stare at whatever monitor displaying the camera recording me, right?

"You think it's possible they're actually using the deaths as a way of communicating their next moves?" I randomly asked. It made sense at the time with the whole name meanings in the message.

"…_I had not considered it."_ That had to be a lie, but I decided to take the highroad and ignore that for the time being. _"What makes you think it is an organization?"_ I rolled my eyes.

"Come one, that's insulting even for me." I carelessly blew a smoke ring at the camera to display my annoyance. "There's no way one person is doing all this." I took his lack of an answer as agreement and continued scanning through my handheld.

--

Author's Note: Show me love guys (In reviews! XD). I was popping extra-strength pain-killers like f—king sugar pills because of this miserable cold/migraine/sleep-deprivation and STILL managed to write it in two days. (I'm a slow writer… btw, those stupid pain-killers don't do anything for migraines)

OMG! Finally! My brilliant main storyline has struck. Like a giant sledge hammer… XD (I just have to come up with names and stuff that don't make it too cheesy…) All I'm wondering now is: should L show up in person?


	6. Meetings: Part One

Author's Note: Alright, found an awesome theme for when Matt goes all badass hacker on us: "The Shadow" by The Prodigy (from the Vexille soundtrack). Bask in the awesomeness!

Btw, if you've been reading since earlier in the story and wondering about the "off" physical description, I edited it to get closer to the original story after getting volume thirteen of Death Note and reading Matt's profile (just height and weight were changed, though).

And if you're wondering about the later updates, it's because of several things: one, I have my other fic and a one-shot I've been working on. Two, now that this fic has a storyline and a specific direction, I've been taking the time to develop later scenes (… such as the last chapter XD) and considering how to pace everything. Three, I work fulltime, so I have very limited time to begin with (not to mention, I didn't get my days off this week, so that set me back a lot). There are a bunch of other reasons, but those are the truly relevant ones. I hope it was worth the wait. (I decided to have the chapter in two parts so it doesn't take _another_ week to finish xP).

**Meetings**

I'd decided a while ago it was time to put in an appearance with some of my old contacts, but first I had to check out some shit. The hell if I knew why. And I wasn't about to lie to myself about the situation either. I was going because L told me to. To put it bluntly, I was that man's bitch the instant I accepted the server number from Al, and there wasn't anything that was going to change that.

I hitched a ride on the transit bus to head on down to the business section of town. I lurked in the back, ignoring the dull roar of the engine under me as I fiddled with the buttons on my game. I was actually kinda spiffed up for this occasion. Like it or not, the case wasn't just casual interest anymore, and I needed to put in an effort to get it done. Putting in an effort meant not showing up in jeans and a T-shirt when first meeting people. I'd found a button-up shirt somewhere in the chaos of my closet and had managed to shake most of the wrinkles out of it. I wore the horrible, white contraption over a striped, green-and-yellow T-shirt. The cuffs were undone, and I had rolled the long sleeves up to my elbows; left the first three buttons closest to my neck undone.

Somewhere down the line I convinced myself to tuck my shirt into the black, semi-fitted cargo jeans I was wearing. I was going for semi-formal/casual because (lets be honest) there was no freaking way I could pull off a suit. Fifteen year old kid in a monkey suit and carrying a brief case? Sorry, no. They'd take me less serious than if I'd shown up in my ACDC shirt and ripped jeans.

I had completely refused a tie… though it was seriously tempting to wear a rainbow, stripy one to match my toe-socks… Hey, I like colour. And stripes. The shock factor would have been fun too.

I turned my head to stare boredly out the window, using my peripheral vision to watch the other occupants on the bus. Nothing too interesting. A couple of old people. Some middle school kids skipping class… A hot older chick in her mid twenties checking me out… I grinned to myself at this discovery. I swear I attract all the cougars around. You'd think I think I was born to be molested or something.

I was rudely jolted from my significant musings by the high-pitched jingle ring of fucking _Hell_. I did a little butt dance across the seat as the vibrator function went off at the same time. I swore and raked the evil device from my back pocket and brought it to my ear.

"Whatdoyouwantnow?" I hissed quietly, quickly. The fifth call. Fifth, Fucking, Call. _In ten minutes._ I took a breath to chill my irritation before speaking again. "You have control issues, dude."

"_Someone just broke into your apartment."_ The distorted voice informed me. I frowned. Ok, maybe that _was_ a good reason.

"You know…" I drawled. "_That's_ why you have no friends." I'd picked up the habit of poking fun at the detective every second I got. "No one likes a guy who's always the harbinger of bad news and horrible situations… What are they looking for?"

"_Toying with my laptop, looking through your computers, raiding the desk."_ It was just too easy because he never reacted to anything I said.

"Why does it _not_ surprise me that you have cameras in my house?" I asked, completely exasperated when I realized that I'd been half expecting it. Later on I would check and discover only a couple in the living room, probably to watch for just such an occasion as the break-and-enter that was happening, but it was still… weird.

He didn't say anything.

I sighed, "Dude, why d'you keep calling? I'm starting to feel like I have an obsessive compulsive girlfriend. Aren't you usually more subtle about your connections with contacts?"

"_Subtlety is unnecessary."_ I rolled my eyes.

"Well that explains a lot." Oh yeah, completely. I got the vague idea that he _wanted_ people to know I was working for him. No idea _why_, but it wasn't really my place to start harassing him for answers either. Not that I hadn't tried… Anyway, I thought he was going along the same principles that I had: kicking shit around until the guilty ones started running for cover. It's very effective.

Wasn't too cracked about being the one stirring the shit pit, though. Those guys usually end up dead. Kinda like Merrick.

"_Will they find anything on your computers?"_ I slouched casually in my seat and went back to the Final Fantasy game I'd been playing (which I died on, thanks to him).

"Of course not." I'd decided to keep all information pertaining to the case on me at all times now. Some of it was in my handheld, some in the folder in my duffle bag, a very small amount in the laptop that I always carried around, but never used. Call me paranoid, but if L is involved, it's not good to leave shit lying around to announce to the world that you're getting somewhere. That's just begging for a death sentence.

"They can't access most of the network without the computers I'm carrying anyway."

"_Interesting. Auto-lock software on the system?"_

"Naw, it's more like these computers have the second half of an IP address that allows it to function. The whole system is handicapped without them." I was dumbing it down a bit. It obviously wasn't literally the IP address, since the IPA mainly affected the internet, but it was a good analogy. And they could still access anything on the desktop (I'm certain they were enraptured to discover my music collection), but anything of importance needed a specific search through hidden files. Which they couldn't do without the other half.

"_I see."_ Come to think of it. Maybe dumbing it down just confused him…

"So are we done?"

"_Yes."_ The line went dead. I pulled the cell phone away from my ear and stuck it in my left pocket without looking up from my game.

--

They were not impressed.

Not that I could really blame them. I stood just inside the entrance of the oversized office, facing a pair of tall, sour police officers that were there to watch over the crime scene and look like they had two-by-fours shoved up their asses. I wouldn't have even got that far without showing my (fake) private investigator licenses.

"Guys, I have a schedule to stick to here." I patiently explained for the thousandth time. "I don't have time for your interrogations." They insisted on going through the questions as though I were a witness or something. I ignored all of them except to point out that I'd never even heard of the guy until that morning when I was asked (told) to show up at the scene.

I rolled my eyes as the now familiar ringtone sounded off in my jeans. I pulled the red cell phone out and pressed Talk.

"Yeah?"

"_Give the phone to…"_ I glanced up at the guys—god I hated being short.

"Is Lieutenant Mathew Harris around?" I asked bluntly. I was done with being patient. The one on the right frowned at me, but left to get him I assumed. "You have shitty taste in ringtones, man." I informed the detective on the other line. "I mean, Mozart?" I ignored the funny look I was getting from the remaining officer and waited patiently for Mr. Harris to show up. "And I thought you told these guys I was coming."

"_I did."_ Came the simplistic response. _"There is a seventy-eight percent chance that they are unable to accept that my representative is a child, and under any other circumstances, they would be correct in assuming so."_ I sighed. Yeah, because fifteen year old kids run around claiming to be working for L all the time… I never told them I was working for L, but the superiors were supposed to know it already.

It was then that Harris showed up. He was pretty average. Black hair, hazel eyes; probably in his late twenties, early thirties, but looked older because of stress-lines. He was probably from England. Your typical standup police officer, really. I handed the phone off to him and watched in fascination as his face quickly morphed from shock, to disbelief, to reluctant acceptance. The man slowly handed the phone back as though expecting it to spontaneously combust. I took the phone and held it back to my ear.

"So, everything sorted now?" The dull sound of a dial tone was all I got in response. "Gee, thanks." I pressed End and stuffed it back in my pocket. "So we're cool?" I asked of the 'senior officer,' Mathew Harris there. He nodded sourly. I do tend to have that uplifting effect on people.

I followed him to the crime scene. It was a lovely corner office on the third floor of the company building. Well, lovely minus the blood stains covering the place. They'd already stuck the corpse in a black body bag, which rendered my showing up in the first place completely pointless. I couldn't draw many conclusions without seeing the body in its original position, and to do that I'd need to wait for the case files.

I instinctively reached for my phone a nano-second before it rang. It was starting to get obvious when the detective would call; usually right before something started happening, no matter how insignificant.

"Heya," I vaguely greeted, since most of my attention was taken up with surveying the room. Mathew wordlessly handed me a pair of latex gloves so I wouldn't contaminate anything in my explorations. "I'll tell you now; these guys don't leave pretty leftovers." I informed him.

"_I am aware of that."_ Of course he was. Why else would he send inexperienced kids to these crime scenes? Alright, so I wasn't inexperienced, but you get my drift. I still felt the mental scars etching themselves into my brain every time I had to deal with the results of a psycho that redecorated a room with dismembered body parts.

"Looks like there was a struggle," I diligently began to list off observations. This too was becoming routine. "Bookshelf knocked over, papers on the floor, blood spattered up the windows and across the desk… either that, or the murderer was looking for something and wanted to hide it."

"_Such as?"_

"If I knew that, we'd probably be a lot closer to solving this." I walked over to the desk and began carefully going through the papers and various drawers. The detective said nothing. I always had the eerie feeling that he was testing me. Like the information I was gathering was secondary to the fact that he was making me jump through hoops for whatever reason. I pulled out _my_ phone and dialed Al's number.

"_Nicole or her family has to be involved in this whole mess somehow."_ The ex-cop informed me as soon as he picked up.

"Great. How?"

"_Not sure yet, but they're definitely involved. I found ghost files on her computer. Some sort of programming shit – you'll understand it better than me, kid."_ I almost smiled at this break through, hoping beyond hope that it actually _was_ a break through and not more confusion.

"Awesome," I said in response to the programming, "At least someone's speaking my language in this mess. Anything else?"

"_Yeah, found out who was paid to kill the girl."_ I grinned ecstatically. _"Launa's people."_ I stopped smiling. She was the one I was going to see before L sidetracked me. I had been hoping to bribe some information out of her, but if it was one of her people's jobs, she wasn't going to tell me shit.

"Oh." My disappointment must have shown.

"_Hey, you can try her anyway."_ Al always seemed to know what I was up to. _"You'll just have to up your bribe."_ I snorted.

"To what? That bitch has more money than Bill Gates." I was exaggerating, of course. But not by much.

"_I still remember when you came home crying that she tried recruiting you as one of her boy toys when you were twelve."_ I scowled at his snickers. See what I mean? Born to attract predators, I tell you.

"Hey, I draw the line at whoring myself out," I said, ignoring the weird looks I must have received following that statement, "even if it is for the case."

"_What?"_ I bit my tongue to keep from laughing at the insanely curious inquiry from the phone at my other ear. Not good to laugh at your boss.

"Nothing," I replied, "Just this older woman's been stalking me for a few years and I might be able to get some info off her."

"_Who're you talking to?"_ Al asked.

"The fucking Puppet Master of the game board."

"_Who?"_

"Oh don't play stupid. You're the one who gave me the server number." I grumbled as I flipped through the victim's address book.

"_Yeah, but I got it from that computer friend of yours, who I think got it from Wedy, who got it from the cousin of a friend."_ I blinked. Oh.

"Hey, boss man," I addressed the other phone. "Didn't you send it on purpose?" There were a few minutes of silence that I filled with more rummaging and being surrounded by guys with guns that were very curious about what I was talking about and trying to hide it.

"_No."_ He admitted finally. …Oh.

"You're shitting me."

"_No."_

"Damn." I shrugged and stuck the little black book back in the desk. I didn't like this. It meant that there were people out there with better tech skills than me. It wasn't a pride thing, more of a paranoia thing. "Is there really a point of me being here?" I finally asked when it became apparent that the Squint Squad had already picked the place apart.

"_Not really,"_ That was L.

"_I dunno,"_ Al said simultaneously.

"Fuck, guys," I muttered and turned heal to leave. "I feel like I'm fighting a losing battle against smart idiots." Neither of the two men deemed my statement worthy of comment. "Is there _anything_ else you can think of that I might want to check out that the forensics people wouldn't think of? Because I am fast running out of ideas on these wild goose chases." Silence.

"_Do you notice anything that looks as though it could be a message of sorts?"_ L asked.

"How about 'I'm a psycho?'" I said cynically.

"_Not quite what I was looking for."_ He commented dryly.

I sighed and scratched the back of my neck. "Look, if there's some earth shattering clue hidden among this crap, it's not going to be me that finds it. I know computers and common sense, and that's about it."

"_I know."_ I rolled my eyes, but said goodbye to the cops staring at me in disbelief.

"Well, thanks guys." I said, pulling open the door to leave the office, though it was sarcastically directed at the two phones as well. I probably looked stupid walking around with a cell phone held to each ear, but it was very important things we were discussing. That's what I told myself, at least.

I made my way out of the main hall and toward the elevator.

_"_So I gotta go. Do _not_ phone me tonight, got it?_"_ Al just scoffed and hung up. He never phones. It was L I was worried about; especially considering the type of people I was going to be meeting with.

_"I'll give you an update tomorrow morning."_ He said simply before that line went dead as well. I stuck the two flip phones in my pocket and pulled out my goggles (which I'd removed to tone down the casualness when I first met with the police). I settled them in place and waited impatiently for the elevator to reach my level. I was itching for something to happen. Anything at that point. Just so long as if it wasn't potentially fatal.


End file.
